go forth and have no fear
by Caught Ink Handed
Summary: "You have no honor," Clarke hissed, tearing her eyes away from Lexa's lips. "And I had no choice." "So then kill me," Lexa pressed herself forward into Clarke's blade. Clarke watched transfixed as a drop of blood appeared against Lexa's golden skin. She didn't bleed gold; she bled red, a wonderful shade of human red.


_**go forth and have no fear**_

 _*dialogue in italics is Trigedasleng_

" _Klark kom Skaikru, Wanheda kom Maun-de_." A man from the side of the door announced. Clarke suppressed a shudder at the title 'wanheda'. She was _not_ the leader of death, despite the ghosts that lingered behind her and the blood that dripped from her hands. She stared ahead, acutely aware of the focus that was on her.

Lexa looked so different and yet so similar. She rose steadily from her throne. Neither paint nor blood marred her face.

" _I request sanctuary and protection, Heda_." The words tasted like blood and betrayal on her tongue. Clarke forced herself to dip her head towards Lexa ever so slightly.

If Lexa was surprised by Clarke's request, she did not show it. She remained impassive as she spoke, " _I offer you sanctuary and protection, Klark kom Skaikru_." Her voice did not catch like it had in front of the mountain. For the briefest of moments, Clarke thought that Lexa would say something to her. But she didn't. " _Daryn, please show Klark kom Skaikru to the guest room on the third floor._ "

Clarke's teeth ground together at the dismissal, but she followed the man silently, her anger bubbling beneath her skin.

Daryn opened the door and motioned for her to enter. Some part deep within Clarke almost broke into tears at the sight of a clean bed with crisp sheets and a warm looking blanket. Clarke schooled her features as she turned to face Daryn.

She gave a slight nod, unsure of what she was to say.

Daryn took a step forward, offering her his arm to shake. " _Mochof, wanheda. My daughter…_ " He paused, trying to find the English words. "She returned to me. Thank you." Clarke shook his arm, offering him a small smile while her insides screamed and thrashed around in agony.

"Thank your Heda."

Daryn nodded, a slight smile on his scarred face, "Heda saved our people. _You_ killed the Maunon. You made them pay. _Jus duan jus drein_."

Any words Clarke had stuck painfully in her throat. All she could see was Jasper's tear streaked face and a soccer ball never to be used again. She managed to nod, her heart beating against her chest. She stumbled backwards from Daryn, her eyes wide and haunted.

Daryn stepped back and asked, "Are you…would you like food?"

"No," Clarke gasped out. "Thank you." Daryn gave her a sad smile before leaving her alone with her ghosts.

Clarke clenched her hands into fists slowly, whimpering as her heart beat slowed. She wanted to close her eyes, but then she would see _their_ eyes. Staring at her blankly, dead. Accusing her. _Why Clark? Why? Clarke. Clarke. Clarke. Why? Wh-_

Clarke forced her eyes open, her breath catching in her throat. She couldn't breathe. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. A strangled scream tore itself from the depths of her soul.

She fell back onto the bed. It smelled like the earth (or was it Lexa? – she couldn't tell anymore. They were one and the same.)

Clarke was up in an instant. She stormed out of the room, nearly running into somebody. "Where's Heda?" Clarke demanded breathily.

"Fourth floor. 3rd door on your left." The girl stammered out.

Clarke bounded up the stairs, her energy fueled by her rage. Lexa had reduced her to this trembling mess. Lexa had forced her hand. It was Lexa's fault. It was her fault that Clarke was broken.

Clarke burst into the room, using her momentum to propel herself into Lexa. Without so much as a second thought, Clarke had her knife at Lexa's throat. Lexa's eyes widened as Clarke forced her back against a table.

Lexa's breath crowded Clarke and Clarke pushed back into her. Clarke let out a sharp breath, emotions spilling into each heave of her chest.

Blue eyes met green and then flitted across the other's face. Without her war paint, Lexa looked young, so young. She could've been one of the Hundred. She was just a child. A bubble of pity welled within Clarke, but she pushed it away.

"You have no honor," Clarke hissed, tearing her eyes away from Lexa's lips. "And I had no choice."

"So then kill me," Lexa pressed herself forward into Clarke's blade. Clarke watched transfixed as a drop of blood appeared against Lexa's golden skin. She didn't bleed gold; she bled red, a wonderful shade of human red. "Klark." Lexa's tongue and teeth caught over the hard letters of Clarke's name, causing the blonde to shudder slightly.

Clarke's eyes darted down to Lexa's mouth again. She looked so human it hurt. Clarke surged forward, pressing her lips viciously to Lexa's. It was so unlike their first, which had been delicate and innocent. Clarke was all teeth and rage and death. The knife clattered to the ground between them as Clarke's hands sought out Lexa's hair.

Lexa didn't taste like blood and betrayal. She tasted like morning dew and sunshine. And she was soft, so soft beneath Clarke's rage.

Clarke tore away for air she didn't think she deserved, stumbling away from Lexa. Clarke attempted to put as much distance between the brunette as possible until she clattered into a chair and fell to the ground. In her scramble to get away from Lexa, she had knocked the other girl to the ground.

Lexa's mouth was parted slightly still, lips swollen and bruised. Clarke's hands had dislodged some of her braids, leaving her wild hair loose. Tears pricked at the corners of Clarke's eyes as Lexa stared at her like one would a feral animal.

"Klark?" Lexa asked softly, one of her hands twitching at her side as if to reach out for the blonde. Clarke's rage caught in her chest because it wasn't fair. How could Lexa be so innocent looking? She was death and pain and blistered skin; not sunshine and bruised lips and softness.

Clarke sobbed, her chest aching along with her heart, and then laughed coldly. "I loved you, you know?" The pain that rippled across Lexa's face was more satisfactory than any physical wound Clarke could've inflicted. "I loved you." Clarke let out a bark of laughter. "I _loved_ you."

"Why are you here, Klark?"

"Because she was gone."

"Who?"

"Niylah." Clarke scrubbed at her face roughly, brushing away her tears. "Seems like everybody I've ever loved betrays me."

"You love her?" Clarke glanced up to Lexa, happy to see the other girl looking very small. She deserved this, Clarke insisted.

Clarke shrugged a shoulder noncommittally. "It doesn't matter now. She's gone."

"I am sorry you lost her." Lexa's voice shook ever so slightly and Clarke couldn't help the bit of remorse that swelled in her chest.

Clarke stood on shaky legs, retrieving her knife from the ground. "I see their eyes everywhere, always watching me." Lexa nodded understandingly; she was the only one who could even begin to understand. "Do you see their eyes too? I mean the people you killed."

Lexa nodded again. "And some who I didn't." Lexa pulled herself to her feet, reassembling the defenses she so meticulously maintained.

"Do they ever go away?"

"No." Lexa paused for a moment before saying softly, "I never wanted to turn you into this."

Clarke laughed again. "Look how that turned out, Lexa." With that, Clarke turned away from the Commander, refusing to acknowledge the look on her face as Clarke said her name. Pausing in the doorway, Clarke said over her shoulder, "She wasn't you."

Clarke shut the door softly behind her, inwardly breaking and relishing at the sound of a choked sob from behind the door.

whipped this out during my free hour. hope it's all right. i'm so pumped for season 3 (like everybody i'm sure!)

comment below if you like it/have a suggestion/want to say hi.

or say hi on tumblr: jessivajones.

-ebh


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